


Slither

by ExplosionOfRationality



Category: Bully (Video Games)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-14
Updated: 2015-12-14
Packaged: 2018-05-06 19:10:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5427410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ExplosionOfRationality/pseuds/ExplosionOfRationality
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Petey and Gary venture out. Pete wishes they hadn't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Slither

**Author's Note:**

> My friend's second word challenge.

Just outside of Bullworth is Slither, the latest punk scene. Only the toughest of the tough venture into it, looking to score everything from a bag of weed to toad. Somewhere in between there's a room for blowjobs, booze for minors, and someone gets knifed weekly. So, naturally, Gary Smith decided he belonged the moment he overheard the greasers talking about it--and, just as naturally, his friend Pete decided as soon as he informed him of it that he'd die if he stepped within ten feet of the building. Literally die; Peter Kowalski is a man (okay, sixteen year old) afraid of getting shot down. 

But, as usual, Gary pokes and prods and bullies and manipulates and teases and everything else he can think of (including promises he never keeps) to get his way, and Pete eventually gives in. He's sure that if a bullet doesn't get him, Gary eventually will, and the bullet is probably actually safer. 

And that's how they end up standing outside of Silther on a Saturday night (it would have been Friday but Pete somehow managed to hide from him for so long that Gary got bored of waiting). 

"More crowded than I thought it was gonna be."

Sure, the place wasn't packed. There'd be room to move around. But Pete had been hoping it wouldn't be streaming people through the doors like it was either. To his relief, there's a bouncer. He's hoping he doesn't look like the type of guy they'd let in. 

"Come on, Petey. Don't be a pussy."

But, to Pete's disappointment, the bouncer looks both of them over appraisingly and lets them pass. Gary doesn't surprise him that much. He looks the part, having thrown on his normal apparel these days. But Pete? Gary had picked out Pete's clothes for him. A tight black long sleeved shirt with cuts going up and down every part of it, showing his skin. Black pants to match. Spiked bracelets, an earring Gary pierced in his sleep. He looks the opposite of himself. 

Once they get inside, he can't help but stare. This type of clique has always made him scared, and that's saying something considering his best friend is a sociopath. He subconsciously stays closer to Gary than he normally would (willingly, that is; the longer they stay friends, the more he gives up on telling Gary not to get so close to him).

He doesn't see Gary's smirk, but he can hear it in his voice, feel it in the way he throws his arm around his smaller shoulder. 

"Don't worry, Petey. I brought my switchblade in case anyone tries to start anything."

He knows that Gary's just as likely to cause trouble with anyone in there than if some stranger takes a dislike of them, so the not-such-a-surprise weapon isn't much of a comfort. He nods anyway, not even fully realizing it as he does so. There is no trust with Gary Smith; they are not really friends, they won't ever really be friends, and he would be foolish to ever think otherwise or to put his own safety in his tormentor's hands. But, as often the case, that's what he does. Gary tells him to relax, to sit down at the bar and have a few drinks, and after protesting, he gives in. That's always his downfall: giving in to Gary. And that's how he ends up at the Slither bar at two in the morning with more whisky in him that he's ever had.

"What is this place even--even named after? Is Slither a dance?" 

God (or whoever he calls out to on the rare nights that he lets Gary inside of him, this probably going to be one of them) help him if he tries to do a belly dance and falls off his barstool, yelling "slither" all the way down. 

"I think it's--I think it fucking means fu-fucking." He laughs like a mad man when he's drunk, carefree in a way he's too smart to be any other time. "Fu-fucking." 

This time, when he tries to do a half-ass attempt at the Robot with just his arms, he only gets one "slither" out. 

"Is that what we do?"

And there it is, the question he wonders but never asks--until he's two sheets to the wind and Gary has propped him up against the bar. What is they're doing, exactly, when they crawl in bed together? It isn't love. 

But Pete, in a way he can't explain, a way that normally isn't present, thinks it might be. To them, at least. So when Gary just rolls his eyes and tells him to shut up, it doesn't hurt his feelings like it normally does. He just leans against his side (not that he'll remember doing it, but when Gary brags about it in the morning, he'll rationalize it as him needing something stable--a word Gary is normally not--to lean against) and tells him to take him home, eyes sliding shut and exhaustion becoming noticed. 

And Gary does, calculating his method of getting Pete to come back the next week all the while in his head. His boyfriend is going to have a motherfucker of a headache.


End file.
